


Dreams So Real

by cheinsaw



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: (lightly mentioned for sayaka and very mentioned for mikan), Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Arcades, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9708359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheinsaw/pseuds/cheinsaw
Summary: A collection of short Dangan Ronpa f/f fics, mostly prompt fills. Pairing and description/prompt will be in chapter title. Happy Valentine's!





	1. kirigiri/maizono, valentine's

Maizono hates Valentine's day.

Well, maybe hate is too strong of a word. Maizono does not like Valentine's day. Maizono has spent the last eight of them dressed in pink ruffles, telling all her fans how she loves them, and getting bombarded by chocolates and gifts from much-older guys who don't care that it's meant to be the other way around. It's not the holiday she hates - it's the men. And so, Maizono is delegating to spend her twenty-third Valentine's in bed.

She gets up, brushes her teeth, drinks some water, takes her antidepressants and antipsychotics and vitamins. She makes two pieces of toast with strawberry jam and eats them delicately, and does not turn on the TV despite the habit itching at her. The silence puts her on edge, but she fills it with soft humming, one of her favorite songs.

Maizono tries not to think about chocolate or wine or dirty hotel rooms. She's safe now. She's home.

Kirigiri is so warm. The early morning air has a chill to it that Maizono doesn't even notice until she's back under the blankets, pressing her body up against Kirigiri's and slipping an arm over Kirigiri's waist. Not for the first time, she feels a sense of gratitude welling up for all Kirigiri's done for her. The therapy, the late-night talks, the dinner dates and kisses and touches. The stability. The hope for a better future for the scared little girl Maizono once was. The knowledge that she'll never have to sleep alone.

Maizono smiles into Kirigiri's hair. She's sure Kirigiri knows, but it can't hurt to remind her again.

When she wakes up again, that is. It's a promise.


	2. mukuro/peko, gardening

“Thank you for sparring with me,” Mukuro says, bowing. “I wanted to get you something as a graduation present, but… I wasn’t really sure what you like.”

“That’s alright,” Peko says, startled. “I don’t need anything. It was my pleasure to fight someone on my own level.”

“Yeah.” Mukuro agrees. “Me too.” Not meeting Peko’s eyes, she unlatches her schoolbag and produces a small thing wrapped in plastic. “If you don’t like it, it’s okay, I just…”

Peko takes the bundle out of Mukuro’s hands, confusion continuing to build. Inside the plastic is a tiny container housing a prickly cactus, a pink bud dotting the very top. When Peko looks up again, Mukuro’s face has gone slightly red.

“It’s, you know, you’re usually busy, so I got you something that’s pretty but you don’t have to always be watching it.”

“I see,” Peko says, at a loss for words. “I. Well. Are you sure? Thank you, Ikusaba-san, I’m… Thank you.”

 

“You got her a plant?” Junko says, disbelief all over her face. The shock is enough to make her stop painting her nails and swivel around to face Mukuro.

“Well, um, yes.”

“Onee-chan, what the fuck, that’s seriously pathetic.”

“It was a cactus,” Mukuro tries to argue. “Low maintenance.”

“Booooooriiiiing. You shoulda got her a knife or something.”

“…Pekoyama-senpai really doesn’t use knives, Junko-chan.”

“So? Any dipshit can figure it out.” To demonstrate, Junko twirls a nail file in her fingers. “You just slice, stab, it’s easy!”

Mukuro sighs. “…Her ultimate talent is swordswoman. She probably knows things like that already.”

“Huh.” Junko turns back to her nail polish. “Whatever. Gay. Who’s gonna play-fight you now that Kuudere-senpai is leaving? Surely not your own poor baby sister?”

Mukuro cracks a small smile at that. There would be no point. Junko may be fast and unpredictable, but she doesn’t have the assassin’s grace that Peko does, able to put her all into trying to kill but stopping just short. “It’s okay. I’ll see if I can spar with Oowada-kun or Oogami-san sometime.”

“Hmm… Okay! That’s your own problem then!”

 

Peko didn’t expect anyone to acknowledge that she was graduating. Yes, she was a part of the class, but aside from Fuyuhiko, no one really cared about her, did they? Acquaintances, if that - Peko has no use for bonds with anyone not a Kuzuryuu. But the underclassman she’d been training against for the better part of the last year, the Fenrir soldier, she had thought of Peko. And Peko has no idea what to feel.

“Is it, like, a flower or something?” Fuyuhiko asks, poking at the bud on the cactus.

“Young master, please don’t prick yourself. Yes, I believe it’ll bloom.”

“I can get Natsumi to take care of it or somethin’, you know, when we’re out.”

Peko smiles softly. “It’s a cactus. Ikusaba-san said it can thrive without attention for long periods, so it’s fine to leave it even if we’ll be gone for a while.”

“Hmph. Awfully nice a’ her.” Fuyuhiko leans back, looking up at Peko again. “Hey. You… really liked her, didn’t you?”

“…I do.”

“Yeah, ’s what I thought. You, uh, don’t gotta cut her out just ‘cause we’re graduating.” Fuyuhiko seems unsteady expressing something this genuine; but then, he always does. “Go back and see her every so often, you know? Get her a plant too or something.”

Peko’s lips quirk up again. The thought of her and Mukuro exchanging succulents like some kind of strange pen pals is fairly amusing, she has to admit. But it’s something that isn’t out of the question.

“Yes,” Peko says. “I think I’d like that a lot.”


	3. chiaki/mikan, fluff

The summer days are hot and sticky, the air heavy with humidity. Mikan’s grateful that the dorms in Hope’s Peak are air conditioned. She’s never had a luxury like that before. Never deserved to have it, not even when she’d work sixteen hours straight on her feet trying to nurse patients back to health - they deserved the care more than she ever would. So it’s not like she’s unused to walking around in the heat, but it doesn’t look like Chiaki’s doing too well. Mikan instantly assesses Chiaki’s objective condition: heatstroke unlikely, maybe dehydration? A lack of exercise?

“Um, Nanami-san, are we almost there?” Mikan asks softly.

“Oh, yeah,” Chiaki answers absently, not taking her eyes off the handheld console she’s been glued to for their whole walk.

“Do you need to rest? You, um, you look really tired, forgive me for noticing… I have some water in my bag if you need it? Or I can stand over you and shade you from the sun…”

“No, I’m okay. It’s just around the corner, and it’s usually pretty cool in there. But thank you,” Chiaki adds as an afterthought.

“O-okay!” Mikan decides she should maybe shut up. If she keeps saying unnecessary things Chiaki might not want to be around her anymore, and then she might leave Mikan stranded in this part of town and Mikan will have to find her way back home on her own. Not the worst thing that’s ever happened to her, but it would be pretty bad, wouldn’t it?

“We’re here, this is it,” Chiaki says, breaking Mikan’s train of thought. The arcade is a lot smaller than Mikan had expected, but if this place makes Chiaki happy then Mikan’s fine with coming along. Nearly tripping over her own feet, she follows Chiaki into the darkened room.

It takes Mikan’s eyes a moment to adjust. There are so many cabinets, all lit up in neon, all singing various beeps and tones. It’s so colorful, and so much, that Mikan barely knows where to start.

“Come on,” Chiaki says, appearing at Mikan’s side with a small paper cup filled with tokens. “I’ll teach you how to play Mappy. It’s not really hard, so you’ll get the hang of it pretty fast.”

“A-ah, okay!” Mikan says, slightly overwhelmed. Then she yelps, feeling something warm brush against her side.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Tsumiki-san!” Chiaki says. “I guess I should’ve asked, huh… Do you want to hold hands?”

“Um! If it doesn’t bother you to touch the hand of a disgusting pig like–”

“It doesn’t bother me at all.” Chiaki smiles, and gently slips her hand into Mikan’s.

Mikan could cry. She almost does cry, tears pricking her eyes until she remembers that Chiaki wants to show her a game, and she shouldn’t cry because then the arcade staff might kick them out, and then Chiaki really will be upset. But being led around the arcade cabinets, hand in hand with Chiaki Nanami, who’s acting so interested and caring… Mikan’s not entirely sure, but she thinks what she’s feeling might be happiness. Good, and pure, and true.


	4. tenko/himiko, domestic

Tenko's day starts early, usually before the sun is even up. She doesn't need the harsh beeping of an alarm clock; she's used to waking up on her own. She has to disentangle herself from Himiko's arms, though, which has slowed her down considerably as of late. It's not easy to pull herself out of bed when there's someone so precious sleeping beside her.

But it's that person who gives her so many reasons to get up every morning. Tenko stretches, standing and bowing and twisting her limbs to warm up for the day. She dips back down to give Himiko a kiss on the forehead, and then she's off.

Tenko's mornings usually consist of a light breakfast followed by exercise and aikido training. But today is special, and Tenko wants it to be extra sweet. She grabs a tray from one of the kitchen cabinets and sets to work.

Three burnt (and two good) pancakes later Tenko has assembled something kind of like a functional meal. At the very least, she'll eat the reject pancakes herself. She sets the food on a plate, pours freshly-brewed tea into Himiko's favorite cat mug, and checks the time. Just before eight. She's right on schedule.

Himiko looks so cute when she's sleeping. Not for the first time, Tenko wonders what she ever did to get such a lovely girlfriend. She strokes Himiko's hair, murmuring, "Himiko-chan, it's time to get up."

"Nnnnnhhhhh..."

"Himiko-chan asked Tenko to wake her up," Tenko reminds her. "So Tenko made breakfast."

"Since when do you know how to cook," Himiko mumbles.

"W-well! That is! Tenko... doesn't, exactly. But, but she made something for Himiko-chan. Sit up?"

Himiko groans unhappily, but drags herself into a somewhat upright position. Tenko cheerfully sets the tray on Himiko's lap, careful to keep everything balanced. She waits expectantly for Himiko's response, but gets nothing.

"...Himiko-chan?"

"...Tenko, you forgot to give me a fork."

"Ah! Oh no!"

Himiko grins, which quickly turns to a yawn. "It's fine. ...Thank you."

Tenko beams. "Of course!" She sprints back out to the kitchen to retrieve silverware, a smile still on her face. After all, if she's made Himiko happy, there's nothing more she needs.


	5. mahiru/ibuki, shopping

The market on the island is mostly full of what Mahiru would call crap, but it does have its perks. Whoever had stocked it must've been expecting the worst kinds of tourists - the store has disposable film cameras. The quality is no doubt horrible, but Mahiru picks one up anyway. There's probably something she could do with it. Some kind of artsy candid photo project with the film overexposed, or something.

"Yoo-hoo, ya-ho," Ibuki singsongs from the next aisle, accompanied by what sounds like her tapping her hands on one of the store's shelves. "Ooh! Ukelele!" This is followed by frantic, off-key strumming.

Mahiru says nothing. She'd only come to the market to see what it had, since the others had quickly confirmed that nothing in it could be used to get off the island. Shortly after she'd entered, Ibuki had followed, circling the store and talking to herself. Mahiru's not sure what the hell this girl's problem is, but it's probably best to leave her alone.

"Hey, hey, Mahiru-chan!"

There goes that plan. Mahiru looks up to see the tips of Ibuki's horns pointing over the top of the aisle, and then her whole head as Ibuki climbs up the shelf. "Be careful," Mahiru says, unable to think of anything else.

"It's okay! Ibuki has climbed up stuff during her live shows before." She grins, showing strangely sharp teeth. It's a beautifully genuine smile, Mahiru notes. "Which sounds better, the deepest part of the ocean or flying high in the sky?"

"Why are you asking me weird questions like that?"

"Oh, Ibuki is working on a new song! It's called 'I'm Stuck In The Supermarket With A Cute Girl'," Ibuki announces excitedly.

Mahiru feels her face color. "Stop," she mumbles.

"Oho! Does Mahiru-chan not think she's the cute girl? Mahiru is soooo cute! Like ultra mega death hell cute!"

"H-hey! What do you mean stuck? You can leave anytime, you know."

"Ibuki knows!" There's a thud as Ibuki hits the ground, and then she's at the end of Mahiru's aisle. "Maybe Ibuki just wanted to spend time with Mahiru-chan."

"I got it, I got it," Mahiru insists. "If... you wanted to be with me you... could've just asked." She's barely able to keep up with Ibuki, still reeling from being called cute.

"Kyahaha! It's a date then!" Ibuki says, swiftly taking hold of Mahiru's free hand and pulling her towards the exit, out onto the beach.

"It's not a date!" Mahiru protests, but she can't seem to let go of Ibuki's hand. And she's alright with that.


	6. kirumi/miu, comfort

Kirumi is certain she's been put on the earth to clean up messes, and she does so with pride. Fortunately for her, the Gifted Inmates Academy looks like it was hit by some sort of natural disaster shortly before her arrival. Well, all the better for her to hone her talent. Kirumi's happy to do all the work.

She's trying to tidy up the library early one morning—she hears it before she sees it. Loud, disgusting sniffles and sobs. A quick glance in the direction of the sound confirms her suspicions: bright pink fabric crisscrossed with metal and black leather. Miu Iruma, in all her glory, seems to have chosen this place to have a complete breakdown.

It's not difficult for Kirumi to comfort a crying child, and Miu is more like a child than anyone else in the academy despite her age. She'll get upset with little provocation, despite her loud boasts and taunts to the others. The second one of them shoots a jab back at her, she cowers and shies away. It's nothing short of pathetic. All bark, no bite.

Well, Kirumi's not one to judge. "Iruma-san. Are you alright?" she asks, kneeling down in front of where Miu's curled up behind a stack of books.

"Uuu—!" Miu hiccups in surprise. "What the fuck d-do you want?"

"I am merely concerned about your well-being."

"I'm fine! Obviously! Any dumbass could see that the great Miu Iruma's just fucking fantastic!"

"...Understood. I'll leave you be. Take care, Iruma-san." Kirumi gracefully stands up, pivots on her heel, and strides away.

"No, wait," says a small voice.

Kirumi turns back around. Miu's looking up at her, eyes red and watery. "Yes?"

"I," Miu says, and she at once seems so vulnerable. "D-don't laugh, okay?"

"I won't."

"Don't leave me alone." The order spills out of Miu's mouth quickly and shamefully, but it's an order nonetheless.

Kirumi returns to her kneeling position in front of Miu. "If that is how I can be of assistance, then it's fine with me. Could I touch you?"

Miu nods, fresh tears running down her cheeks as Kirumi's arms envelop her. Kirumi hadn't expected Miu to be so warm, or so soft. She reassuringly pats Miu's head, and Miu feebly hugs her back.

Kirumi won't ask what's wrong. It isn't her place, and she doesn't want to upset Miu further by forcing her to talk. But simply holding Miu while she cries, providing a source of comfort—well, that Kirumi can do. And she'll do it happily.


End file.
